


Everything

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Engagement, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-10 21:12:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh my god, you stole the prop ring from shooting today?”</p><p>“I didn’t steal it!” Darren responds, affronted and frowning. “I just… Um, Forgot it was in my pocket, and when I was changing, I thought it was safer with me than in the trailer.”</p><p>“Safer with you? Maybe if it was bigger. I’m surprised you haven’t lost it yet,” Chris teases, making a grab for the box, but Darren pulls it back.</p><p>“My pockets are very safe places, I’ll have you know.”</p><p>“If by safe places you mean black holes, then yes.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything

They’re lying down on the couch, Chris’s back pressed to Darren’s chest, not really paying attention to whatever movie Darren put on and muted the moment they walked in. It’s not really about the movie, it’s more about the  _relaxing_ , about the being quietly together, and Chris can feel his eyelids getting heavier.

But he can also feel something hard in Darren’s pants.

“Seriously, Darren?” Chris throws a half-amused, half-annoyed look over his shoulder. He was  _seriously_  looking forward to a nap. Darren furrows his eyebrows, and,  _damn_ , actually does a really good job of looking confused.

“What?”

“Are you seriously turned on right now?”

 

“Um, no, but I  _can_  be, I mean, it probably wouldn’t take very much—”

“Bullshit, what’s—” Chris presses back against the hardness, “—that?”

“Okay, well, if you’re going to push against my dick with your ass, it’s not my fault if I start getting a boner.”

Chris lets out an exasperated noise.

“You already  _had_  one.”

“What the fuck ghost dick are you feeling? I did not!”

“Yes you did, I can still feel it right—” Chris pushes back again, with a bit more direction, “—there.”

“…Chris, that’s my fucking pocket.” There’s laughter in Darren’s voice, and then Chris is spinning around to face him, looking confused. “I have something in my pocket, that’s what you’re feeling.”

“What, a cucumber?”

“What the fuck? No! It’s not even slightly dick shaped.” Darren fishes into his pocket, pulling out a small box. Well, Chris hadn’t really registered the shape, just the density, apparently.

Darren is holding it up near his eyeline by the time Chris recognizes it.

“Oh my god, you stole the prop ring from shooting today?”

“I didn’t steal it!” Darren responds, affronted and frowning. “I just… Um, Forgot it was in my pocket, and when I was changing, I thought it was safer with me than in the trailer.”

“Safer with you? Maybe if it was bigger. I’m surprised you haven’t lost it yet,” Chris teases, making a grab for the box, but Darren pulls it back.

“My pockets are very safe places, I’ll have you know.”

“If by safe places you mean black holes, then yes.”

“Same thing, right?” Darren grins, pulling the box back again as Chris makes another grab for it.

“Are you going to let me see it?” Chris laughs, still trying to take it from Darren. But he pulls it close to his chest, mouth falling open as he stares at Chris in an exaggerated mockery of surprise.

“You haven’t  _seen_  Kurt’s engagement ring yet?” Darren’s eyes nearly pop they grow so wide, and then immediately turn teasing again. “Is that like a method acting thing?”

“No, it’s like a, I had no idea there was an actual ring prop, thing.” Another attempt, but Darren dodges, again.

“Maybe there isn’t, maybe it’s just a box.”

“You kept an empty box in your pocket for safe keeping?”

“Empty boxes need safe keeping, too, Christopher.”

“You are talking so far out of your ass right now. If it was just an empty box, you’d—” Chris tries to grab it again, “—let me see it!” He lets out an exerted grunt.

“But this is so fun,” Darren singsongs, playfully. Chris narrows his eyes, scooting closer, and then suddenly they’re scrambling over each other, arms and legs tangling as they go from lying down to sitting up, back and forth, again and again.

“This doesn’t make sense, I’m  _taller_  than you.”

“Why the fuck does height matter? We’re  _lying down_.”

“Just give it to me!”

“Oh my god, oh my god, don’t poke me there! Tickling is foul play!”

“Stop flailing, you nearly kicked me in the balls!”

“STOP TICKLING ME!”

“GIVE ME THE BOX!”

“WE’RE GOING TO FALL OFF THE COUCH!”

“NO WE’RE—ACK!”

Chris’s back slams on the floor—he’d groan in pain, except Darren lands on top of him almost immediately, and all of the air shoots out of his lungs.

“Told you,” Darren mutters weakly, and Chris whacks his shoulder. But he also uses Darren’s weakened state to pry that fucking black box from his hands, and then holds it up in triumph. “Wow, good for you, you just had to bruise your ass to get it.”

“My ass is fine, thanks.” Which… Well, it hurts a bit, but still, he got the box. “Are you getting off of me anytime soon?”

“Cramping your style?”

“More like crushing my sternum.”

“You’re so great for my self esteem.” Darren rolls off of him, and then darts in and kisses Chris on the cheek—his universal way of saying,  _no hard feelings_. He sits up, and Chris grins up at the box, spinning it in his palms. “So you’re just going to stare at it?”

“Give me a few minutes to gloat, please,” Chris hums, and he sees Darren roll his eyes and flares his palms open.

Chris doesn’t wait long, of course. He’s generally good about keeping his curiosity in check, but Darren had been taunting him with the fucking little box until it had become more about Chris’s own stubbornness than what the ring actually looks like. He clicks the box open, drawing the ring out from where it’s nestled, and holding it close to his face.

“Woah, they really went all out with this thing,” Chris murmurs, surprised. He hadn’t expected it to look so real, although it’s also not as attention-grabbing as he thought it would be, either. It’s a platinum band, the middle striped with a darker ring and inset with the tiniest diamonds, evenly spaced around the entirety. He tries to see it with Kurt’s eyes, but he can’t stop thinking about how gorgeous  _he_  finds it.

“Would it be totally weird if I put it on?” Chris jokes, although he’s also kind of serious.

“No.” Darren’s voice has dropped to a whisper, and Chris angles his head to look at where he’s kneeling on the ground next to him.

Wait.

Darren is kneeling.

“I’d… Really like it, if you put it on, actually.”

“Darren…” Chris’s voice wobbles as he stares up at his boyfriend, his heart quickening in his chest. Darren glances down, his hands spasming where they’re tense, hanging towards the ground.

“Could you, um… Sit up for a minute?”

He looks so fucking nervous, and Chris is still just  _lying_  there, box in one limp hand while the other is still holding the ring. It takes him a few moments to register Darren’s request, and his body wants him to scramble and sit up as quick as possible, but he doesn’t. His limbs move slow as he moves to sit, legs curled to the side, that little circle of platinum gripped so hard between his thumb and index finger that it’s starting to hurt.

Darren reaches out and grabs Chris’s left hand, and the box easily falls to the floor—Chris doesn’t think about it for a second. He can’t look away from Darren’s eyes, which are staring into his so completely earnestly, and so completely afraid.

Chris isn’t sure he’s ever seen Darren this way before.

“This isn’t exactly how I wanted this to happen.” Darren squeezes his hand, and looks momentarily apologetic. “But then, you found the box, so I decided to just… Roll with it, you know?” He laughs, forced and nervous. “And… Fuck, I had this whole… Thing, memorized, and this  _plan_ , Chris, you would’ve… It would’ve been fucking perfect.” Darren’s eyebrows furrow together, and he finally looks down, his finger tracing over the ridges of Chris’s knuckles. “You deserve perfect, Chris.”

“Darren…” God, his words stick in his throat, and he moves to his knees, shuffling closer so that Darren  _has_  to look up at him again. “I… I don’t—”

“You  _do_.” Darren looks so very certain of that fact. “God, Chris, you just… You deserve _everything_. All the good things in the world. If something makes you smile, you fucking deserve it, because you should… You should always be smiling.” Darren blinks rapidly, and Chris notices that his eyes look shinier than they had a moment ago. “I want… I want to give you those things, Chris. Every day. Every fucking  _second_  of every fucking _day_ , for the rest of your life. I want to be the reason you smile, and laugh. I want… I want to be the reason you get frustrated sometimes, and the reason you feel safe, I want…

“I want to give you everything, Christopher Paul Colfer. I want to  _be_  your everything.”

Chris’s breaths stutter in and out of him, catching in his throat so often he feels like he might faint from lack of oxygen. He thinks he might be going into shock, and his eyelashes clump with unshed tears when he blinks.

“That wasn’t rehearsed?” He teases slightly, and Darren huffs out a laugh, dropping his gaze again. Chris inches closer again, until his knee is pressed tight against Darren’s.

“…I didn’t know there was more to the world, a few years ago,” Chris whispers, because he can’t make his voice any louder—he’s still having trouble breathing, much less talking, but he needs Darren to hear this. He needs Darren to  _know_  this. “And… Then there was you, Darren. There was you with your contagious smile and the way you look at the world, like it’s possible to just reach out and take and you… You shared that with me. You  _taught_  me that.” Chris’s laugh escapes him, light and wet.

“You showed me that I could have everything, Darren, and I can’t… I can’t think of someone I’d rather get it from, or share it with, or give it to.”

Darren’s smile starts and stops, and he’s so incredibly still, Chris almost feels like he should check if he’s still  _breathing_.

“Is that a—”

“Put the fucking ring on my finger, Darren, before I start crying my eyes out.”

Darren laughs louder, like the joy is popping free from his chest, and then he’s surging closer, dropping Chris’s hand so he can grip his face and kiss him, sweet and simple. Chris is crying, he can feel the tears falling and can’t stop them, and he should hate how much Darren makes him cry—how much Darren makes him  _feel_.

Except he can’t. He never could, and he never wants to.

“You didn’t technically ask, you know,” Chris murmurs, as Darren plucks the ring from Chris’s grip and then cradles his left hand.

“Hmm, I believe you’re right.” Darren starts to slide the ring down Chris’s finger. “Will you marry me?”

The weight is strange around his finger in a wonderful sort of way, and Chris wants to spin it, can’t wait to adjust to the feel of it there. He looks up from it, at Darren’s sweet, open eyes, and grins, shrugging slightly.

“Eh, I guess so.”

Darren growls and tackles him, and they land hard on the floor again.

“Darren! Stop it!” Chris squawks as Darren tickles him, because his tears are hardly _dry_ , and this is supposed to be a  _moment_.

“Can’t,” Darren replies around his own laughter, even though Chris is doing nothing but trying to push him off. “Irresistible urge to tickle my fiancé, has to be done.”

The word  _fiancé_  drums up Chris’ spine, through his heart and into his head, and Chris should know better by now, he really should. Darren makes  _everything_  a moment.

“Seriously, stop tickling me and kiss me!”

“Well, since you asked.”

Darren shimmies up Chris’s body until they’re level, and Chris knows they’re both grinning like idiots (he can feel his own, and he can see Darren’s).

“You’re an idiot. I feel bad for the guy who has to marry you.”

“Yeah, well, he loves me so he puts up with it.”

“He must love you a lot.”

“Oh, he does.”

“…yeah, he does.”


End file.
